Shooting Stars and Satallites
by FlyMeAway8
Summary: "George had recently acquired the habit of losing himself, both mentally and physically. It's easy to get lost in his mind, a cavernous expanse of ocean. Sunk to the bottom, he feels empty - which is better than the pain he feels everywhere else."


George had recently acquired the habit of losing himself, both mentally and physically. It's easy to get lost in his mind, a cavernous expanse of ocean. Sunk to the bottom, he feels empty - which is better than the pain he feels everywhere else.

When he'd pop above the surface of his reverie, he'd find himself in a completely different place. Sometimes in Ottery St. Catchpole, sometimes up a tree in his backyard. Once Arthur found him halfway to Surrey, shoes in hand on the side of the road.

This time though, he caught himself on a dark country road. Bright stars bloomed from the night sky he hadn't realized was there. He'd never been on this road before. Tall evergreen trees rose above him on either side, their leaves set far above him like a blanket.

From beyond a far curve in the road, two twinkling eyes appeared from the darkness. George was suddenly reminded of the story of The Three Brothers, and he wondered what it might have felt like for the third brother to simply look into Death's eyes and _go._

The thought that it must have been easy reassured him as the two jeweled irises approached him. Only, he was the second brother. Not the third.

The quiet purr of the car's engine echoed between the trees as it sidled up next to George. A small voice sounded from inside.

"Are you lost?" when she didn't receive a response, she tried again.

"Are you alright? Hurt?"

George shook his head, orange hair flopping into his face. Merlin, how long had it been since he had a haircut?

"Are you sure?" the woman persisted. He hesitated for a moment, but shook his head once again.

"Do you want a ride?"

"Yeah."

She unlocked the passenger side door. George crossed over slowly and opened the door. The inside of her car was lightly scented with lilacs.

"Sit," she offered with a small smile. He did, adjusting to the plush leather seat. He immediately began to fidget. Another habit. The absence of a body next to him made him uncomfortable.

She pressed the gas pedal and the car shot foreword.

"Sorry, it's a mini-cooper, you know how responsive they can be… where are we going, by the way?"

He had no idea what a mini-cooper was.

"This way."

She laughed happily. "Convenient."

He turned and for the first time got a good look at her.  
>Her face was extraordinarily delicate looking, like the dolls Ginny used to play with. Her eyes crinkled at the sides, like she smiled too often for her porcelain skin to handle. Her nose was a slope like Ron's, and her waves of dark hair reminded him distinctly of Angelina. She scraped her pink lips with her front teeth, an easily recognizable trait of Bill's…<p>

"I don't usually pick up people on the street - as if that matters. I dunno, you're not a hitchhiker, I don't think-" she pursed her lips and wondered whether she had said too much.

"I wasn't trying to get a ride," he assured her. "How far away is Ottery St. Catchpole?" the trees disappeared and pastures sprung up on either side of the small car. Other than the Ford and the Aston Martin he and Fr- his brother attempted to commandeer the summer before fifth year, he had never been in a car for any length of time. He found himself fascinated by the electric window control.

She laughed her odd fluttery laugh. "Ottery St. Catchpole? That's miles from here, love. We're nearer to Bristol than there."

He flipped the switch up and watched the window roll down, and a cold wind blow in. He switched it back down and the thin glass made it's way back up.

"What's your name, anyway?"

"George."

"That's an old name." she responded, twisting the steering wheel to accommodate the curved road. George shrugged and rolled down the window again.

The night sky was deep blue, and the moon a silver slit hung on some great invisible thread. Something moving caught George's eye.

"What are those?" he asked, pointing upward.

She spared a glance from the road. "The shooting stars or the satellites?"

He squinted to tell the difference. Two or three of the brighter points made their way across his line of vision.

"Do they collide?" he asked, and instantly blushed, sure that it was a stupid question.

She simply smiled and led the car around the country lane. And after a moment - "You can put your feet up, if you like. Your legs must be tired if you've walked all the way from Ottery St. Catchpole.

He panicked, afraid of doing the wrong think. After a second of hesitation he unfolded first his right, then left leg and set them on the expanse of dashboard in front of him.

"That's better, aye?" a cross-road appeared and she flicked the turn signal. After taking the left route, she flipped on the head lights.

"I'm from Liverpool… I don't know if you could tell by the accent. We say 'aye' every other word. I'm only down south to visit my cousin. He's in this little village up the road- that's where we're going. He's about your age, you might know him," she paused, wondering about how she could say things like that to a complete stranger.

The silence that followed was comfortable. George was overwhelmed by the strong smell of evergreen and lilac that lingered around them. It suddenly occurred to him that nothing really mattered. How hard could it be to forget about the world? To love this girl? To stay in bed all day with her, trace her jaw with his lips as the morning sunlight glared through the window pane.

Lights of a village appeared before them quickly, and the dusty country road softly faded into asphalt. The car pulled up alongside a brightly lit pub. Voices and laughter spilled from underneath the doors, and the strong scent of whisky permeated the air.

"I hope this is alright," she said, turning to him. She blushed. "I assume you're old enough to drink, and they'll probably have a phone you can use if you need it."

He nodded and moved his eyes away from her face. He moved slowly, like an long-time arthritic. Something occurred to him though, when he was finally out of the vehicle.

Leaning down, he spoke quietly, but with an insistence that hadn't been in his voice for a long time.

"I never caught your name, miss."

She smiled, and her teeth shone like shooting stars and satellites.

"Elise."

"Elise, then."

Another happy silence followed.

"Thank you."

"No problem."

"I'll see you around."

"I would like that, George."

He watched silently as the car pulled away, further into the village. He wasn't sure if the empty feeling that he was used to had simply gotten smaller, or if his heart had become two times larger.

His eyes closed, and he let himself be enveloped by the smell of evergreen and whiskey and lilacs as he apperated home and into his empty bedroom.


End file.
